Theory of Monopoly
by sherlocks
Summary: Nobody said being a hustler was going to be easy. Nobody said you would fall for a gorgeous, sadistic CEO and destroy yourself in the process either. Sess/Inu. S&M, bondage, fetishes, angst, deep shit.
1. Chapter 1

Every theory has criteria, or rules. Here're the rules to the theory of monopoly.

**Warnings** are in order: expect lots of angst, sexual innuendo, sadistic personalities, witty banter which will require you to read between the lines, and some pretty deep shit.

* * *

**Theory of Monopoly **

_Beggars Can't Be Choosers_

* * *

He never understood why or how people thought they had any right to judge anyone. None of the people he's ever met (and he's met plenty) were perfectly clean. Clean in the sense that they'd never done anything remotely immoral, socially unacceptable, or just downright stupid. He'd yet to meet someone who had never taken risks before, so who gave them the right to judge? Inuyasha had long ago decided that every fucking human being on this planet was a hypocrite, but he'd try his damn hardest not to be. It'd bring nothing but trouble first of all, but if he delved deeper inside himself than he felt comfortable, he'd find it was really because he wasn't exactly a model citizen himself—far from it actually—and that he had absolutely no merit to say anything about anyone. After all, he was a whore, albeit a somewhat high-end one.

He had started because of his dying mother, who had fought liver cancer for a good five years before she died three years ago. For seven years he'd been selling himself. He thought he'd be able to quit anytime, but like all shady businesses, it was easier said than done.

There were more reasons to continue than to stop, really. After his mother had died, sex became an addiction—a reckless but numbing mechanism he chose and embraced for the lack of a better and available one. It had been easy enough to continue, with the temptation of money and attention and fuck, the brain-stopping physiological responses were all he thought he wanted—needed. And in those five years he battled alongside his mother, he had gained an impressive number of wealthy clients with his even more impressive _skills_.

He had considered returning to the track of the clean and proper, and had even been one step away from it. But then his poor but necessary choices caught up to him and he'd been expelled from medical school and ousted from all the social niches he'd ever felt truly at peace within, the ones that still had memories of his mother. Corruption gradually engulfed him and suddenly, all too soon, he realized there was no way back. He had seen and would never forget the filth that defined being human. He was on his own, and he'd been looking forward ever since.

Tonight, he was with a new client. Someone he's already decided he'd never accept again for sprouting all these fucking feelings of self-pity out of him and reminding him of all the shitty aspects of his job he absolutely hated. God, connections were a scary thing sometimes. The john pounding mindlessly into him right now had heard of him from a regular client of his, who had insisted he take on the new client despite his zealous reluctance. He'd been assured he wouldn't regret it, that the guy had deep pockets, yadda yadda, all bullshit Inuyasha now realized had really meant _take the fucking kid as your client or I'm going to lose face, and there's no fucking why I'm losing face because of a whore; should you refuse, say goodbye to my money._ This would all be no problem really, if the spoiled, rich brat—Inuyasha thinks his name is Carter maybe? He's having a hard time remembering with all the white noise behind his eyes—had any solid sexual experience. With males.

He'd probably be laughing at the irony if the pain wasn't being amplified by the lewd thuds of skin slapping against skin at an insane frequency.

Inuyasha's erection had long since gone limp, not that Carter / fucking brat cared in his virgin-like sex crazed frenzy, but he would will through the agony and tighten himself at just the right moments, moaning like an animal because Carter / fucking brat seemed to be into that kind of thing. Going by the passionate, vulgar accusations being barked hoarsely into his ear, Inuyasha was sure he'd be going home with tips tonight. _Tonight_, he reiterated mentally because there was no way in hell he was going to stay to wait on the possibility of morning sex.

When the guy finally met release—_inside him for god's sake, what the fucking hell—_and rolled off of him, Inuyasha moved slowly out of bed to collect his things scattered off the pristine, cold floor of the five-star hotel room. He normally allowed himself to a shower and some rest (if only to make it all seem less of a…_transaction _) but right now, the sooner he got out of there, the better. The client was just a shitty kid, probably half a decade younger than him, spoiled and with no real-world experience in him. Obviously a pathetic wuss too, or else he wouldn't have tried getting some ass through a business partner. These types were the worst. If Inuyasha was naïve enough to stay any longer, he was sure the kid's impulsiveness and revived audacity would rip him a new one just as a newfound testament to the kind of power his money could bring him. His instincts were practically screaming danger. So when the client was at least somewhat coherent, he just stuck out his hand, waited to receive his tip, and then bolted out of there as fast as his wobbly legs could take him.

By the time Inuyasha arrived home, it was already three in the morning and he ached all over. Fearing an incoming migraine, he was tempted to crash onto his bed and sleep it all off, but the dull pain from earlier didn't allow him the liberty. So he trudged slowly to the shower, cleaned himself as best he could without causing further injuries, then crawled gingerly under the covers without bothering to dry his hair. Only then did he dream.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for the kind reviews! Just wanted to clarify the definition of a hustler: "An American slang word for a pimp, drug dealer or male prostitute." In the case of this story, I am referring to the latter. The reason why I use the word hustler in the description will become clearer as the story develops. Keep in mind that a hustler could also mean "A practitioner of confidence tricks," or "Someone who deceives others by hustling."

* * *

**Theory of Monopoly**

_Protect Your Clients_

* * *

Morning came way too soon, was what Inuyasha thought as he invested just enough consciousness to finish brushing his teeth, wash his face, and put on some decent-looking clothes that still did a good job displaying all that he had to offer. He made his way to the coffee shop Kagome worked at for a quick hello because to this day, only his ex-girlfriend was able to make him the perfect Chai Tea Latte.

Kagome was now the only piece of proof Inuyasha had from his past life. She was as oblivious as ever, still believing that he had taken a leave from medical school but would return one day. Inuyasha thought their relationship a bittersweet one. From one perspective, his childhood friend held memories of his mother and gave him a sense of normalcy that he sometimes desperately craved. They would reminisce about the silly things they did as children and how much trouble he'd caused his mother just to get her attention. Through her, Inuyasha could believe his mother hadn't really died—because she would never be forgotten.

But from another perspective, Kagome was a constant reminder of what he could have been but will never be, because sweet, sweet, oblivious Kagome was on her way to becoming a pediatric doctor. Inuyasha found it both endearing and annoying how she often shared stories of her journey with him and how sometimes, when she needed help studying, he was the first person she'd call. Sweet, stupid, beautiful, incorrigible Kagome.

He saw the huge lineup following him and left as soon as he got his drink. His friend shouted a quick _sorry_ and a _see you tomorrow_, and Inuyasha chuckled resignedly because yeah, he would return tomorrow. Just like he always did.

He looked at his watch, 2:49 pm. A little over 2 hours.

Inuyasha rode the public transit and got off after 20 stops, where a familiar face awaited outside the train doors with a package for him. Their eyes met briefly before he looked towards the stairs up to the streets, as did passengers behind him. He passed the man and didn't look back. When he arrived on the streets upstairs, he rummaged his pockets to find a slip of paper with a name and an address of a company on it.

He asked around for a nearby library and once there, researched as much as he could on the company. Satisfied with his results after half an hour, he borrowed the library washroom and opened the package from earlier. Inside it was a brown letter-sized envelope and an expensive suit—which Inuyasha pitied because it was a damn nice suit that didn't deserve to be confined a dusty old paper bag—which he promptly dressed. His watch reminded him he had about 15 minutes to deliver the package.

As he made his way out of the building, he asked one of the lovely librarians to 'keep the books safe for a bit as he'd forgotten his library card at home but would be back momentarily' and handed over the bag for safekeeping. Envelope in hand, he walked up to the building with an air of confidence and asked for a Mr. Miroku. When the cute front desk looked away to call an extension, Inuyasha quickly scrunched up and threw the note with Miroku's name on it into the garbage bin behind the desk.

Minutes later, he was being escorted up the elevators to the 14th floor and was told to wait for Mr. Miroku in the conference room down the hall. Things seemed to be going dandy and Inuyasha was beginning to celebrate at nabbing such an easy job, until the Miroku character came into the room with another man tagging along behind him and shit hit the fan. Here he was, performing a rare delivery, and the stupid client had to be someone he'd slept with ages back. Fuck.

It didn't look like Miroku, who he'd previously known as Miro, was expecting him either, seeing how he cursed out loud the moment their eyes met. The guy behind Miroku was clearly dressed better than him, so Inuyasha assumed he was higher up on the company hierarchy, which _really_ wasn't good because Miroku was seriously panicking right now and yeah, Inuyasha kind of felt like punching his face.

Change of plans.

Inuyasha laughed playfully and offered a hand. "Miroku, it's been a while! Sorry for shocking you, I was honestly trying to go for _pleasantly surprised_." At their weak handshake, the man from behind raised his eyebrows. Right, so he wanted an explanation. The guy was good.

"Hello sir, my name is Carter." His brain was already screaming _WHY._ "It's a pleasure to meet you, and forgive me for causing a disturbance. Miroku and I used to go way back, you can trust me." By the handshake, Inuyasha established the man was indeed the Miroku's superior and that he was not impressed. Couldn't blame him though, Miroku was rather slow on the uptake.

"You have the files?" No longer feeling eminent danger, Inuyasha's face turned serious and he got down to business. He allowed the two men to sit and relax before continuing.

He had no idea what was in the envelope, but he'd have to pretend if he wanted to save Miroku's ass. Inuyasha, admittedly, liked the prospect of calling in favours. "Miroku was persistent, but I do believe this is what you want." He replied with a smirk as he slid the envelope in front of the silver-haired man. Inuyasha watched as he pulled the documents out halfway and inspected it with sharper eyes than expected, before slipping them back in. When he gave a nod to Miroku, Inuyasha made to stand, believing it as his cue to leave as well. However, the man leaned back in his chair and instructed him to sit instead, so he did.

When Miroku didn't look back at him, Inuyasha realized he might be in deeper shit than he thought. The man continued to stare at him with those beady, golden chicken eyes of his and Inuyasha continued to play innocent, until he understood the gig was really up and proceeded to mentally curse the heavens. Then he retaliated and sat back too, returning a stare that just as hard and searching for any clues he could use to get himself out of the building. (There were none.)

"Who are you, really?" _Damn._

"Miroku's friend?"

"If you had spared _your friend_ even a single glance while you were trying so hard to figure out what I was thinking, I might have believed you." Oh, he _was _good. Inuyasha considered his choices.

"…Good point. I'm not really his friend, but we do know each other. I wasn't expecting to see him here."

"Where _do_ you expect to see him?" So that was where he was going with this.

"Look, you have nothing to worry about. Miroku's not doing anything stupid, against you, your boss, or this company, and I'm certainly not his accomplice in anything sketchy."

"Then what was that poorly done confidence trick I just witnessed?" _Smartass._

Inuyasha feigned offense, "Hey, if Miroku had reacted faster, I would be out of here by now."

"I doubt it." Okay, now Inuyasha was kind of offended.

"Fine, good job finding me out, can I leave now?" Inuyasha pointed to the door. "I can promise you won't see me here again."

"Not until you tell me how you two know each other."

Inuyasha slammed on the desk as he stood, glaring at his opponent. "Listen, I'm not telling you anything on the account of it's none of your business. I've already told you I'm not any one you should be concerned about. I could care less whether you believe me or not." He walked towards the door, fully intent on escaping, but he only got to touch the handle.

"Would you prefer if I fire your so called friend? I don't need questionable employees under me." Inuyasha shot around and narrowed his eyes at the man being unnecessarily difficult, who nodded curtly at the chair.

Inuyasha tsk'ed and returned to his seat. He knew a losing battle when he saw one, but maybe just one last push.

"Miroku's a good guy, from what I know of him anyway. We went out with each other briefly before."

"If the next thing out of your mouth isn't the truth, this discussion is over."

"No mercy, hu– Okay, okay!" Inuyasha pleaded with arms outstretched when the man stood from his chair. "Miroku was my client! Shit."

"Client?"

"We… we slept together, okay? I swear I'm not lying this time!"

"You're a prostitute?"

Inuyasha rolled his eyes at the obvious. "Yes, I am. I was just doing a delivery job for your informant because I owe him big time, alright?" The man stared him down, and for a second there, Inuyasha could swear he was being checked out. Except that was crazy, because _look at the freakin' situation_, so he ignored his imagination.

"Why are you trying so hard for Miroku? Do you have feelings for him?"

"What—no! We slept like, a total of three times? I don't remember. Besides, I don't mix personal with business. It's just, I vaguely remember Miroku telling me he wanted our relationship to be discreet and he looked scared as shit when he recognized me just now so…"

"So you protected him simply because he's your client?"

Inuyasha's eyes furrowed. "Well, yeah. My clients aren't just paying me for my time; they're paying me to keep secrets, too." He didn't know why he was explaining his policies to a man whose name he didn't even know, but he felt compelled. He didn't want the man to misunderstand for some reason and was relieved he believed him when he finally allowed him to leave.

Inuyasha grabbed his own clothes from the library, dropped them off at home, and decided to keep the suit as compensation for such as shitty experience as he made his way to the red light district. He didn't think too much into it at the time, since the guy had already agreed to let Miroku go and Inuyasha was pretty sure they'd never see each other again anyway. He would look back at all of this later and hate himself for being so damn oblivious of the storm brewing just beyond the horizon.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you for the reviews, all! I'd like to answer a question before beginning the next chapter: Sesshomaru is not this 'Carter' individual. 'Carter' is merely an OC I created to serve an appropriate introduction to Inuyasha's turbulent life as a prostitute.

* * *

**Theory of Monopoly**

_You Stick Up For Your Bros/Sis'_

* * *

The people in Inuyasha's inner circle knew they could depend on him and that was just how he liked it. He spoiled his friends rotten whenever he could, if only because he knew they all deserved so much more than what bitchy ol' life threw at them. But that didn't mean there weren't times they made him seriously wonder how the fuck they ever became friends. Tonight seemed to be one of those times.

He had wanted to stay in his own district tonight, let it be known that he was available to some of his favourite regulars, because fucking Carter left a bad aftertaste he needed to overwrite like, pronto. But then stupid Sango called in sick to the cathouse and an hour later, he found himself in a tiny glass box sucking dick.

He'd been reluctant to agree when he heard about the job. Apparently, it'd been Sango's turn at the infamous glory hole at Babes Galore, which was really the only shift he could assist in at the normally girls-only bar. He'd heard rumours here and there about it, none of which he liked, but then Sango pulled that learned helplessness and reverse psychology shit she always did when she wanted something and then he'd given in—not because any of that crap worked on him or that he liked the idea, but because Sango was one of the rare people in this godforsaken business that actually had more than a little something going on upstairs and Inuyasha could appreciate that.

He knelt on the cold base of the glass box, with a hole in front and two more to his left and right, all of which were covered by a layer of silk preventing him from seeing what was outside. Beside his sore knees were two containers filled with oil, being cooled down with an ice bath underneath. The glass was opaque but his lean figure and long silver hair could still be roughly made out by the spectators outside with the current lighting, thus providing the perfect combination of anonymity and sensuality.

Oh yes, and gender deception. Let's not forget that.

He was expected to lubricate and pleasure whatever appeared in front with his wet mouth, while using the cool oil and his hands to do the same to the two penises on either side. The first few blowjobs were fine and Inuyasha prided himself in the several c-notes that had been thrown through the gaps for him for a job well done. But now, fifteen hard cocks later, his lips were aching like hell, his tongue was cramping brutally in his mouth, and his fingers were wrinkly and pale as shit with the extended lack of heat.

Tears were forcing their way out of closed eyes from the lack of oxygen, but he had no choice. He couldn't risk giving away his _very male_ identity and possibly getting his friend fired from the house. So he swallowed down the endless loads of semen until his throat burned and willed away the strong temptations to hack and cough and release every drop of the thick, salty fluid currently obstructing his respiratory pathway.

There were a couple of repeats, Inuyasha could tell from the familiar appendages being thrust in his face, but he found the rate at which they were coming at him strange. He'd been given few breaks in between each consecutive job, and even those had been short. From what he was told, the rooms the boxes were in had twelve boxes, three each attached to the four walls. Surely, he wasn't the only one working at these booths tonight.

When someone came to refill the oil, Inuyasha received a hard pat on the back and learned that word had spread outside the room that his booth contained the finest cocksucker Babes Galore ever had and that there was an impressive lineup of shop regulars waiting just to get acquainted with his ever-pleasing mouth. To which Inuyasha winced and thought _fuck this shit, I'm going home_.

As much as he liked dick, there was that all too familiar heady stench building up overwhelmingly just behind his nostrils and he felt so much build-up in his throat, he was trying too hard not to vomit every time he triedto swallow. His brain was becoming numb—and not in the good way—he felt somewhere between tipsy and dizzy, and _why didn't the fucking refill come with any water._

If only Sango's main source of income wasn't on the fucking line. _Ugh._

He shook away the static in his head just like he did when he pulled those all-nighters back in school, and rubbed his face with his arms (can't really rely on the current state of his hands). _Pull yourself together, _he told himself, as he pokes the tip of fresh meat with his nose, earning him an encouraging twitch. Thankfully there was only one customer right now to keep his full attention on.

Inuyasha rubs his cheek slowly, _agonizingly_ down the length of the massive cock, planting damp kisses on every vein that pulsated under his sensitive skin and felt it harden impossibly more as he made his way to the base. Then all too quickly and intensely, he uses the entire surface area of his tongue to lick up the underside of the penis, all the way to the tip again, where he begins circling the head fervently until it is completely coated in a mix of saliva and precum. Inuyasha hears the man gasp then grunt disapprovingly when he backs away and terminates their contact temporarily.

He smiles, for it was rare to find someone so responsive. Most of the customers who used these booths were very important men who required the strictest of privacy, hence the lack of visual information for both parties. If Inuyasha was honest, he would admit he was feeling a rush to his groin that he hadn't been able to experience all night.

He teases the man some more, letting his saliva drip onto the hot skin, like sweet syrup onto a deliciously crisp waffle, and then blowing the wet areas until he saw the vague shape of the man's hands holding desperately onto the sides of the box to keep afoot. Feeling merciful, Inuyasha performed his magic, nipping and humming at all the right places and moments—although not without some difficulty in the beginning because of the man's tremendous_ size_, but of course, Inuyasha has always been a quick adapter.

A steady bobbing rhythm builds just as one hand maneuvers skillfully over the man's balls. The fingers of the other wraps around the base with just enough force to extend the man's pleasure whenever Inuyasha felt he was seconds away from bursting, because _damnit, you come when Inuyasha wants you to come._ And sure enough, when he hears suppressed, raspy profanity from above, Inuyasha allows the man to experience a trembling, blissful release and he makes sure to finish with a lusty suck-pop sound just before the cock squirts its milky juice all over his face.

Inuyasha removes himself immediately afterwards—because that was all he was getting paid to do—and it takes the man a few minutes to retract from the booth. Inuyasha wipes his face lazily and hisses when some of the man's generous load gets in an unsuspecting eye. The sting clouds his vision with a new pool of incoming tears and through all the blinking, Inuyasha only worries he's making succeeding customers wait. When his visual field finally clears, he is surprised to find his booth unoccupied.

From what he could hear, there was not a person directly outside his booth and Inuyasha began to panic, wondering if he'd done something wrong. If the shop lost any customers because of him, Sango was screwed, which meant he was screwed, which meant he'd have to kiss some serious ass later and he _hated_ doing that.

A heavy knock comes from the door behind him just moments later and suddenly he is face to face with the stern-looking aging madame, who demands he leave the premises immediately and never come back again. When he doesn't comply as fast as she likes, from the surprise and perplexity understandably, he is being pulled roughly out of the booth by his arm and then dragged violently down the hall. There would be bruises on his limbs and scratches on his neck and back by tomorrow morning, Inuyasha was sure.

He tries to coax an explanation out of the woman before he all but trips over a fold on the scarlet carpet and lands face first on the ground. He looks back right when the madame throws his belongings and a couple of bills carelessly at him before sprinting back down the hall and out of Inuyasha's sight. His brain goes into overdrive as he absently draws his clothes on and collects the paper money from the floor. His attempt to figure out for himself what exactly had gone wrong fails. Inuyasha was confident he did a good job tonight, so what had happened?

He wanted to try again, at least for Sango's sake, so he made his way to the door he believes the madame had disappeared through but found it to be locked. Sighing resignedly, he trudges slowly back towards the exit, his hips and legs cramping from being kept in the same position for so long.

His hand was already at the handle when the madame's high-pitched screeching voice reaches his ears again, calling for him to stop. He was almost enticed to leave; it _really_ annoyed him when he was called "_you_" rather than his actual name. Respect should be a universal thing, you know?

Oh, but right. Sango's fine ass on the line too. Okay.

"Yes, Madame?" He asks with a fake smile.

"_Oh_, oh dear, I-I'm so sorry about my behaviour earlier. You're not hurt, are you?" She's panting and fluttering her fake eyelashes unnecessarily, which tells Inuyasha she needs a visit to the gym more than she needs a shot.

He puts on his most flattering expression without breaking his face off and replies with a pseudo mellow tone, "Of course not, ma'am. Did you happen to forget something of mine when you hauled out my belongings from the lockers earlier?" _Ah, shit._

But to his surprise, the madame makes an effort to hold back her glare. Hm. Inuyasha had the upper hand here, but he didn't know why.

"Oh, no, deary, nothing like that," she chuckles apprehensively, waving an arm all up on his face, "I-I was wondering if you could stay around just a while longer?" Inuyasha raises a brow, encouraging her to continue.

"You see, dear,"—Inuyasha really wishes she would stop with that _dear_ shit, just because she didn't bother to remember his name—"there's someone who has expressed interest in… getting to know you better. He's a powerful man you wouldn't want to cross, and if you are in his favour, you will be rewarded very generously, do you understand?" Inuyasha's temple wrinkles in confusion. Did the hag seriously just ask him to let one of her customers fuck him?

"Um, you do realize I am a _man_, right? That I'm _only_ filling in for Sango tonight? That your bar is strictly _girls-only_ and that I don't exactly have the _parts_ that would suit your particular, uh, clients' tastes?"

The Madame sighs, irritation thick in her voice. "Of course, you imbecile, that's why I was trying to get you out of here as soon as possible! What you said is exactly what I told _him_, but _he's_ insisting it's not a problem. He goes both ways, apparently, and he wants the face to the mouth that just blew him, not this shop's best girl, can you believe that?" She rolls her eyes. "If he doesn't see _you_ tonight, he says he'll take his business elsewhere."

Inuyasha considers this. "Why should I care what he does? He's not my client, he's yours. And besides, I'm still tired from all those blowjobs, with extra bruises on the house thanks to you."

"Now you listen here, boy!" Her hands are at her hips. "You don't take this job, I'll fire your friend's sorry ass and make sure she never works around these parts again."

Inuyasha lips pulled upwards, seeing her nostrils flare unattractively. It seems he has been severely underestimated.

With arms crossed, he retorts, "How about I don't take the job and have you lose one of your biggest patron, which will ultimately result in the loss of the rest of your deep-pocketed clients?"

"Look here—" She interrupts, digging an accusing finger into his chest. His eyes narrow.

"And if that somehow doesn't manage to ruin your business, _Madame_, I'll let every big name in this district and beyond know that you allowed me to work at your bar. I'm sure you know how important one's reputation is in this business?" He challenges with a brisk air of confidence in every word. Inuyasha sees a brief hint of fear in the woman's eyes, which is quickly replaced with anger. Her lips opens and closes, her insults running dry and weak. When she next parts her lips, she's capitulated and Inuyasha was all smirks.

"F-Fine, I promise I won't do anything to your friend. Please," Inuyasha could tell she is struggling with her pride, but hey, she had it coming, "can you just give him what he wants?"

"I want my friend, _Sango,_ and you better remember that name from now on, to get a raise. Triple it, or I'm out." She's grinding her teeth so hard Inuyasha could hear the friction, but she reluctantly agrees and Inuyasha lets her lead the way back down the hall, through four different doors before she leaves him to his own devices in front of the first double-doored room he's seen in this huge ass building. The pounding music, lewd sounds, and strong smell of sex and pheromones from the main areas don't reach these halls. The décor was more tasteful and the carpet very soft, he couldn't wait to feel them beneath his feet.

He wonders who he has to thank for Sango's fortune and his amusement—it wasn't every day he was given someone's neck on a platter—but he'd make sure to pay back the debt in full. He didn't like to owe people after all.

He breathes in and out then knocks on the beautifully varnished wood twice. He could hear shuffling sounds, slippers against rug, and then the doors open leisurely to a somewhat familiar face. Wide golden met sharp amber again and it took all that Inuyasha had not to bolt right then and there. Before him stood Miroku's shitty boss who he'd never thought _or wanted_ to see ever again and _HOLY FREAKIN' JESUS CHRIST, HE HAD LET THE GUY COME ALL OVER HIS FACE._


	4. Chapter 4

Warnings: Beware of penetration.

* * *

**Theory of Monopoly**

_Expect the Unexpected_

* * *

Inuyasha couldn't remember the last time he felt this so awkward around a client. That is, _if _the man sitting so damn regally across from him could even be called a client.

Worse yet, the awkwardness had nothing to do with his pride—at least he was familiar with that kind.

No, the cause of his current anxiety came from the intimidating way the man he just sucked off _hard_, whose name he _still_ didn't know, was staring athim, as if he was dissecting and analyzing his every move—every chest heave as he breathed, every pulse he could hear ringing in his own ears, every blink he forced because the intensity in those eyes was more stimulating than he liked and he was maybe just a little bit scared he would get caught up in it.

Inuyasha wonders about the improbability of this entire situation in the first place and imagines himself laughing sardonically because of course he can't _actually_ do that right now, when the silence in the room was so fucking deafening.

He reasons that if Bossman (he decides to call him Bossman because of his position as Miroku's supervisor, and because neither Glory nor Hole or any combination of the two would help with his current poker face) was actually looking for a shag, he'd at least be going home with a fatter wallet tonight. He does this because his instincts were screaming for him to run away but the perpetually self-sacrificing portion of his brain wouldn't have any of it; tells him he needs to try, if only for his friend's sake, because he wasn't a douchebag like the majority of the people he knew.

He tries harder to convince himself by looking around at the obscenely large suite, eyes darting between the bottle of wine Bossman's got opened that looks positively delectable, and the lavish king-sized bed to his right with big, soft pillows he desired very much so to cling onto like a koala.

At some point during his visual exploration, his brows must have furrowed because Bossman finally decides to grace him with his taunting voice.

"What exactly are you looking for? The backbone you seem to have lost since you last saw me?"

Inuyasha stares, blinks, gapes at the accusation, honestly surprised and maybe a little bit snubbed because _dude, he did not just go there._ It takes Inuyasha only two seconds to regain his bearing and go for a snarky counter.

"No, I'm just making observations, all of which seem to support the hypothesis I made the last time I saw you." He scoffs and narrows his eyes into a glare, crossing his legs sharply as he sits back to imitate the other man's posture.

"Oh? And what hypothesis is that?" The man chuckles deep and encouraging, echoing tingly vibrations up Inuyasha's spine, but he ignores it and instead makes it his mission to rip that smug sneer off that too-handsome-it's-just-not-right face.

"That you're a complete and genuine asshole."

Mission accomplished.

Inuyasha smirks as the man frowns. He doesn't want to think how pretty those lips are and how good they'd look around—

"Perhaps I've made you _too_ comfortable." The man interrupts his train of thought, lifts his chin from the back of his hand and reaches for the cup of wine at his elbow, on the table next to the sofa. He looks away, no longer speculating whatever he was speculating, because Inuyasha's flabbergasted expression could be amusing for only so long.

"Strip." He commands, no longer in the mood for games.

Inuyasha prepares to laugh, wanted to ask if this was all a joke but one look across the room was all the answer he needed. He berates himself immediately for being so uncharacteristically unprofessional, for only realizing now how hard he was trying to delay the inevitable as if he was still hoping for something that'll never be, although he does put some of the blame on the insufferable man… no, _client._

He lifts himself from the sofa and begins by removing his leather jacket and his white cotton top, in the most sensual way he knows possible. Slow and tight, shifting in a way that accentuated his flexible torso and rolling hips, all the while keeping seductive eyes on his client, trying to gauge what the man found pleasing and what he considered distasteful.

So far so good.

No sparks yet, Inuyasha whirrs, but no matter. He had plenty more tricks up his sleeve.

He unbuckles his belt next, letting it clang playfully and interrupt the silence he forgot was there again as it hit the plush carpet floor. He unzips his jeans leisurely as he shoves one hand down his pants to grope his cock and makes sure to let out an inviting exhale of pleasure.

Their eye contact finally breaks as Inuyasha focuses on protecting his precious manhood from the metal of the zipper; he'd gone commando today and fuck, he can admit he really wanted to sneak a glance at the client's face to see whether he approved of his choice of wear, but no.

It wouldn't do to spoil someone that he'd just called an asshole.

So Inuyasha lets all his garments pool at his feet, as if creating for himself a pedestal to stand on. Now fully naked, he looks at the client again for further instructions, but all he receives is a glare. An actual motherfucking _glare. _

No hints of arousal or appreciation, whatsoever.

He falters just a tiny bit and takes a step back unintentionally; no longer as confident as he'd been minutes ago.

He made no move to cover himself, however, because he had no qualms about his figure. He liked his body—how it appeared in certain angles, how it moved always to his advantage, how it worked even when his mind didn't—and he knew his face was good-looking, at least by normal standards.

Inuyasha fixes himself, supposes that there were always exceptions since every person had their own tastes, but despite that… this was the first time he received such a condemning look.

No. His ego can go fuck off. The real problem here was that, for the first time ever, a client of Inuyasha's gave him absolutely _nothing_ to work with.

Inuyasha honestly didn't know how to proceed.

And that scared the shit out of him.

It must have shown in his face, _and is it just him or is he being read way too easily_, because Bossman suddenly shifts and uncrosses his legs, his wine abandoned and his attention now fully on his new toy.

Inuyasha immediately moves to fill the space between those thighs, which felt quite toned against his knees. Or maybe it's just him. He hadn't noticed how tense his muscles were until Bossman's hands were on the back of his thighs, pulling him forward so roughly, he couldn't stop himself from clinging onto the man's broad shoulders for support. It was a fruitless effort though, as seconds later he was jerking and curling into himself to escape the sharp pain pulsating just above his hip joint.

He hisses, seeing teeth puncturing skin between strained eyes, and digs his nails vindictively into the client's shoulders. Inuyasha always gave back as much as he was given, after all.

He was about to curse at the rude fucker when he saw the first rivulets of blood, but the air in his lungs is stolen and gone and all he manages instead is a submissive grunt because no matter how many times he used and abused it, he didn't think his hole—or anyone else's for that matter—could handle 3 dry, thick fingers all at once _while fucking standing up._

Inuyasha gives it a moment, remembers to breathe again and instinctively tries to spread his legs to give the man more access _and lessen the damn pain _but he is stopped by the man's unwilling thighs. He attempts to escape the prison he'd unknowingly entered himself by taking a step back, but the callous fingers around his thigh held him in place. There were going to be bruises there tomorrow, amongst other places, _the fucking bastard._

"Move." Inuyasha practically whines and he surprises even himself. The man happily complies by bending his fingers and Inuyasha groans, long and breathless, as the first signs of desire hit his groin hard.

Feeling equal intensities of pain and pleasure, the half erect Inuyasha was no longer confident he knew what exactly he wanted. Feebly, he mutters, "Not there, you idiot."

The piercing slap his buttock received as punishment for his lack of respect had him unbuckling his knees and falling, right on the merciless digits the muscles of his crack hadn't quite fully accommodated.

He cries out then, eyes seeing impossible stars, sensory receptors enduring all of three—no, four now—fingers in him, the only things keeping him up at this point because his limbs were going unbearably weak. The more he moves, the deeper they seemed the go and Inuyasha was suddenly unbelievably scared, as if he was being abandoned by the edge of a steep, unforgiving cliff with one mere hand clinging onto dear life. He's trembling, _fucking trembling for fuck's sake,_ while his client continues to scrap his insides without hesitation.

Inuyasha's anger bellows to the surface at the lack of care and he retracts one fist to inflict some serious damage to the guy's face (_and get the fuck away!)_, but then he's safely back between strong arms again, as if he was being forgiven and receiving some soothing for being a good little boy by obediently receiving his punishment.

When his eyes gain focus again, Inuyasha finds his chin resting on Bossman's shoulder and his thighs on top of his and around his waist, sitting in the most awkward position he's ever been in. Nevermind the hands that were currently gauchely slack around someone he still believes to be an asshole.

He's breathing hard and fast, heart still pumping at a faster rate than normal from the adrenaline. He feels the man remove his fingers, as if finally satisfied with the findings of their thorough exploration and he doesn't stop himself from sighing into the man's long, soft hair. He vaguely reminisces of freshly burnt ashes, of forest and expensive scotch.

His relief was short lived however, as immediately after, he was being lifted up by his backside, carried over to the bed, and then promptly dropped there with little patience. Inuyasha panics, shouts for the man to wait, his hand outstretched to create a weak barrier, while his pucker spasms traitorously. He really wants to smack himself at this point, because _jesus, this was not him, he's not this incompetent but fucking hell, his face must be blushing so terribly red._

"Shy now, are we?" Inuyasha hears the man chuckle and ogles appreciatively as he continues to remove his own articles of clothing in a way Inuyasha thought was so elegant, it was bordering absurd. He resists the urge to pinch himself.

"I-I'm not! I just…" Oh lord, how could he say he was embarrassed at the way his erection had bobbled so silly when his fine ass landed on the bed with legs very much wide open?

He just wanted to crawl in a hole and die. This was just so ridiculous.

"Relax." Bossman insists, crawling on top of Inuyasha in a perfect way that mingled their bodies together comfortably and beautifully. Inuyasha stills when he sees a hand reaching for his face, but then his scalp's being affectionately kneaded and he finds himself rocking his head harmoniously with the pattern of touches.

And if all of this somehow ends up with him baring his neck and face to the side in the universal gesture of submission, well, he'll just claim plausible deniability.

His eyes are closed now but he could still tell when a shadow blocked his face from the lights, and he prepares. Breathes in and out, opens his legs again and relaxes, letting the man work his body any way he pleased.

He was pleased with aggressive, rough, and agonizing, apparently.

Inuyasha doesn't seem to remember the last few seconds. All he thinks of is how suddenly tremendously full his belly felt, how much he had underestimated the man's size and reach, how the fuck his body was not breaking from all that dizzying force.

He grabs onto bed's frame behind him for dear life, but it's really no good when his palms, like the rest of his body, were running sleek with sweat. Inuyasha cries because the man's coarse fingers have finally found their way to his tender nipples, because his hands keep fucking slipping and his back is arching so much he feels like he'll snap in two any second now.

"Too m-much…" He pants, as his prostate is violated in a manner that's entirely new.

"Shh… you can take it, that's it…" The man whispers throatily, one hand moving to anchor Inuyasha's hips down while rubbing comforting circles on the crevice there with his thumb. His other hand is on Inuyasha's lower belly, palming it down ever so slightly, so that the body underneath his could recoil just enough to allow him an exquisite view of their joining.

It amazed him to see the full length of his cock being accepted so easily by the lithe body in his lap. But it wasn't enough.

It was as if there were infinite more space inside, begging to be filled and he found himself eager to be the one to do it. Curiously, he slows his thrusts, tosses a leg over his shoulder lazily and inserts a thumb inside the twitching hole.

"Oh, fuck!" The little slut whimpers, shivering enticingly, and he lets a smile cross his face when the ring of muscles attempts to crush its intruders in desperation. The boy had the most responsive body he'd ever touched and he found it positively addicting—wanted to learn just how much it could take and relished in seeing it destroyed by his own hands.

He decides on something wicked.

But for now, his own orgasm took priority, so he focuses on his own pleasure, only pampering his newly found plaything when it was certain there were worthwhile benefits to reap.

Soon, he reaches a pace and vigour that threatens the very stability of the bed, causing it to creak in a threatening but so _very_ encouraging rhythm. The boy is desperate to clutch at something, he realizes somewhere in his daze of pure rapture, but he finds he rather liked the helpless, tortured look on his damp face. So he holds him down by his throat, hums appreciatively as the scorching walls tightened around his manhood in response, and proceeds to fuck the little thing _absolutely senseless_.

It takes several hours, and four truly convulsing orgasms from the boy for him to reach his own gut-wrenching climax. By then, the boy was no longer conscious enough to revel in the feeling of being completely and utterly gorged with semen.

The man is only slightly disappointed; had the boy remained awake, he would have demanded a _thank you, sir_ for bestowing within him such a generous load.

* * *

A/N: This chapter is for those faithful readers who bothered to come this far. Thank you for that.


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